Post-apocalyptic Disney nation cont. 4

A well dressed man sat quietly in the empty office room. Shahid watched him through the security camera however he couldn't see the man's left hand tapping to rival a metronome. After a few moments, Zarina entered the room.
"Now, this is just routine." She said as she sat down. "So, what's your name?"
"This isn't a good idea." The man replied calmly.
Zarina then noticed his perfect tapping.
"What are you doing?"
"Counting."
"Counting what?" She asked.
"The seconds we have left." The man replied with a resigned expression.

Walt stared in shock at the massive man that had climbed the rope after him.  No, climbed was the wrong word. The man had jumped up and latched onto the craft. The pod racer tilted dangerously.
"Is your friend an elephant?!" Ioan shouted as he struggled to make the craft rise.
"No, that would be the giant axe wielder that's attached to the engine." Walt gulped.
"What?!" The imp turned to look.
"GO!" The axeman roared, swinging his axe at approaching Gresh. "GO!"
"You got it!" Ioan punched the accelerator. "Hold on to your pants!"
The engine groaned as the pod racer shot out of the hole in the roof of the cave. With a choking roar, the craft sped away at half speed. Ioan struggled to maneuver the craft through the desert canyon as they raced towards the gulf. Holding bandages to Jack's wounds as best he could, Walt tried to keep him awake.
"Brace yourselves!" The imp roared, trying to turn the pod racer sharply.
A stone wall was approaching fast. Suddenly the engine whined and the craft banked sharply. Walt threw a glance at the axeman and saw that he had dug his axe into the ground, pulling the craft hard right.
"Good man!" Ioan called, seeing the act. "Keep an eye out for danger!"
They continued like this until the great gulf came into view. The weight of what was about to happen sank deep in their hearts. Only the unconscious Jack was unworried by the rapidly approaching edge.
"Ioan, I have a bad feeling about this..." Walt started.
"Nonsense! If he drops the axe, we'll...be fine..." The imp tried to sound confident.
The axeman raised an eyebrow and reluctantly threw his axe aside. The engines jumped a little but the craft didn't rise any higher. The realization that this indeed was a bad idea came too late for any of them to do anything. The pod racer shot out over the great gulf and plummeted. There wasn't even a brief second of cartoonish suspension.
Ramblers sneaking about the wreckage of the world froze, hearing what they thought were the screams of some fantastic creatures. One looked up out of the bones of an engine. Seeing no great flying predator, the plummeting pod racer caught his eye.
"Yensidian!" He called with a whoop.
Other Ramblers called in return, coming out to watch.
Ioan screamed as the ground rapidly approached. Putting his feet on the dashboard, he pulled up on the controls with all his might, trying to arrest their fall. The engines coughed and shuddered as they struggled to obey. Finally, the nose of the pod racer lifted slowly out of its dive. The imp was almost relived until he saw the wreckage they would have to dodge.
"Holy-!" He yanked the controls, barely missing a shattered wall.
Walt glanced up from his work, and saw some people running next to them. The Ramblers, normally content to watch a crash, were assembling a jump engine on the run.
" Niatnuom  roirraw!" One shouted, as he connected two short poles.
" Ronoh ot eht naitnoum!" Another called, configuring something that spun two different ways.
"What are they saying?" Walt asked, yelling over the roar of the engine.
"They speak backwards!" The axeman roared back, tiredly adjusting his grip on the pod engine. "I'm too tired to puzzle it out!"
" Stnenopmoc!" The lead Rambler called.
The other Ramblers tossed their bits of engine to her. She jumped as she ran, grabbing the components with a dancer's grace. As the engine began to take form in her hands, Ioan looked over.
"What is she-?" He started. "Oh snap!"
Before any of them had time to react, she ran in front of the pod. With inhuman skill, the Rambler leaned back as the pod ran over her with inches to spare. With a quick motion, she placed the engine on the underside of the pod. Then she stood up after the craft finished passing over her. Seconds later all heck broke loose.
The jump engine ignited and shot the pod racer straight up. Walt thought for a second that they lost the axman then saw his thick fingers bending grooves in the metal. The shreds of war sped past beneath them as they drew closer to the wall. The craft's trajectory went diagonally up. Ioan realized this and tried to calculate how far up the wall they would be when they reached the solid structure. Had they not had a jump engine quickly bolted to the pod racer, the craft would have automatically prepped for docking. However, Rambler jump engines have no regulations so the imp would actually have to try to drive the pod with an independent engine.
The Ramblers watched, holding their breath. From their vantage point they could see it was going to be close. As the craft drew level with the porthole, a flash of light caught one of the Rambler's eyes. She looked towards the light and saw some one silhouetted in the beam of light. Then just as quickly, the light and silhouette was gone. The Rambler looked back towards the craft and saw the portal closing. There was a scrape on the edge of the wall but no wreckage falling from the sky.

"Woah! Wooah!" Oli shouted. "Turn off your engine!"
"I can't!" Ioan shouted back. "It's a Rambler jump engine!"
The engine sparked madly as it tried to break free of the cradle that had latched on to the craft. With a mighty heave, the axman kicked the engine. Astounding Oli, the engine crunched inwards and fused together.
"Engine off!" He grunted, letting himself fall onto the walkway.
"Help me with him!" Walt called, changing the bandages on Jack.
Tying up the man's arm, he noticed that Jack's blood shimmered strangely. Ioan shakily climbed over to him to help. Pulling off a spent bandage around the young man's middle, Walt saw something sticking out that shouldn't even be in someone's body. He carefully gripped the frayed end of a cord and gave it a tug. Jack lurched awake and grabbed the older man's wrist.
"Don't do that," he said and his eyes rolled back. "You'll pull me apart..."
"Ioan, I've got to call this in," Oli gulped, looking into the craft at the bloody scene.

Walt, Ioan, Oli and the axman sat quietly in the waiting room. The axman had been patched up and given some clothes. He looked rather odd sitting there in grey sweats, overfilling the small chair. Walt fiddled with the cane, trying to focus on the here and now rather than dark past memories. The problem was, the here and now strongly reminded him of the distant past. The four started to attention as Dr. Calico stepped into the room.
"Alright boys," she held up clipboard.
"Is he alright?" Walt interrupted.
"Physically, he'll live," she replied with an arched eyebrow. "However, our scans show he has a mixture of wires and mechanics running through him. We don't know what it's for so we can't tell if its terribly damaged."
"He's a robot?" The older man's eyebrows shot up.
"Not entirely." Dr. Calico flipped a few pages on the screen of her clipboard. "He appears to be mostly organic hence why he bleeds."
"Half android?" Ioan looked at Walt. "What kind of friend have you got?"
"You sir, are an imp." Walt replied. "And you think a man full of wires is strange?"
"Yeah, but at least I know what I'm for." The short man replied. "You're his friend. Do you know why he's full of wires?"
Walt didn't have an answer for that. How could he explain that yesterday he was untold thousands of years into the past? He doubted they would even believe him.
"Now, if you're done squabbling," Dr. Calico said. "He's awake if you want to talk to him."
The four jumped up.
"Woah. Woah. Not all of you at once." She held up her hands.
"That's alright." Oli said, rubbing his hands. "I'll go check on me brotha."
"Oh, what's Stan done now?" Ioan asked.
"He fell outta window."
The others winced.
"Give him my best." The imp said. "And tell him he's getting old if falling out a window messes him up."
"I will stay." The axman said solemnly. "I doubt he wants to see me right away."

Post-apocalyptic Disney nation cont. 3

In the security room at Disneyland

"You would not believe what I just saw!" Shahid said.
"Do keep me in suspense," Zarina rolled her eyes.
"Alright, alright!" He practically hyperventilated. "Your man reaches the beginning of the line and ( without stopping) the camera jumps and he is at the front of the line."
"What?"
"Let me explain again.."

Walt wandered down Main Street in almost a daze. The majority of it was exactly as he created it. There were a few additions and something seemed to be missing but it was overall the same. The oddest thing he observed however was that the people walking around acted like normal people rather than tourists.
"Come on Walt," the imp called. "We've got to arrange papers for you."
"Papers?" Walt asked, trotting after him.
"Yes papers." Ioan said. "If you want to go anywhere past Main Street, you have to have papers.
"Hold on fella, all I want to do is go find my friend!"
"Well look, Walt, I don't make the rules, follow?"
"I know you don't," the man interrupted. "But I'm worried about him. And the princess said he'd been taken by something."
'And' he thought, 'the less I know about this place the better.'
"Taken? Wait, was he," Ioan stopped and turned. "Was he taken by a Gresh?"
"I think that's what they said, yes." Walt said. "Is that a bad thing?"
The imp balanced on his left foot and flexed his toes.
"Ok, here's the shimmy." He said. "You go to the emporium and get your papers then meet me by the dapper dans. I've got a... I'll explain later."
With that, the imp dashed off. Walt stared after him for a moment and turned towards the emporium.

After his strange encounter with a rather crusty gentleman in a bright yellow pinstriped suit, Walt now had papers. At least he supposed this comfortable, close fitting wristband held the necessary information. As he walked towards where the dapper dans were singing, he noticed that everyone seemed to either have a wristband similar to his own or arm band or in rare cases a necklace. Upon reaching the dapper dans, he realized he didn't recognize the song they were singing. Walt watched them for a moment, enjoying their talent and how similar they looked to the boy's he had hired.
"Hey ,Walt." A voice next to him whispered.
He looked around and remembered that his friend was short and looked down. To his surprise, he found himself looking at the top of a fuzzy brown bear creature.
"Who-?"
"It's me!" The little bear looked up to reveal Ioan's face. "I'm in disguise."
"Why?" Walt asked.
"Because you have to jump through hoops to get permission to go out." He adjusted a back pack he was wearing. "I've got one for you too. Come on!"
"Wait a minute!" The man called as he followed the little bear. "You don't plan to put me in a bear suit too, do you?"

Walt watched the forest whip by as the... pod racer thing they were riding sped along faster than the train. The long fur on his suit billowed almost like seaweed. Ioan told him it wasn't a bear suit but he was certain he had made up the word Wookie. Still, it had taken a lot of convincing to get him to put on the hairy suit. The face paint wasn't so bad but the suit was making him itch.
"So, Ioan." He started. "Are you really a fairy?"
"A fairy? No. They have wings." Ioan replied.
"I mean are you really a magical creature rather than human?" Walt corrected.
"Oooh. That's sort of difficult to explain..." He drummed his fingers on the controls for a moment. "Before the apocalypse, or the war they say ended the world, people could decide what they wanted to look like. That knowledge was lost after the war. And the alterations stuck and, I guess, became races."
Walt rubbed his face for a while, processing this information. The future was much crazier than he could have ever imagined.
"So, you're human. You just look different because of the choices of your ancestors?"
"That's the basic idea, yeah."
In record time, they reached the wall. The pod glided to the portal as the engines ran down. The Charles Dickens character that manned the portal folded his arms expectantly. As they landed, Walt could see that the man was the same one he met on the way in. He leaned against the controls for the portal with an amused look on his face.
"Well, well," he laughed. "A Wookie and an Ewok lookin ta go out. I wunda if that's good ole Ioan under there. Ye wouldn't ta be tryan to sneak out woul'ya?"
"Now, Olie!" Ioan jumped off the pod, looking rather silly in his bear suit. "Would I come all this way to sneak past you?"
"Yeah, ye would now." The man replied. "Why do ye wanna break probation and who's your Wookie friend?"
"Walt." The older man held out his furry had.
"Oh, yer the one tha' patrol brought in eh?" Olie said. "Eager ta leave already?"
"No, I'm just worried about my friend-" Walt started.
"And we're just going out to fetch him." Ioan interrupted.
"Hmmm. Woteveah," he rolled his eyes. "Ye know da toll."
"Right...." He said quietly. "Sorry in advance, Walt."
The little imp cleared his throat, paused and made a strange sound. For all the world, it sounded like a yawning/stuttery growl.
"What was that?" The older man laughed.
"Tha' was a Wookie bellow." Olie said. "You're turn."
"What?"
"You wanna leave wiv-out permission you gotta pay da toll." The portal operator said. "You wanna leave, you gotta Wookie bellow."

"Hey you," the man at the desk said. "You're late for your shift."
"Yes I am." Jack said apologetically. "It won't happen again."
"You know I have a problem with that." The man held out a hand.
"I don't understand?"
"You're a time machine. You're physically capable being anywhere at any time." He glared at him. "And you waste time with a little kid."
"Excuse me! Am I not allowed to have feelings?" Jack asked, affronted.
The man leaned forward and flicked him in the forehead.
"You're a computer wrapped in a meat suit." He said condescendingly.

The darkness that had enveloped Jack shattered in a burst of light. He cracked his eyes open. Multicolored figures were running around and a tall figure was looking up. Silhouetted by a hole in the roof of the cave was a whirring metal craft. A shape detached from the craft and lowered towards him.
"Is that a Wookie?" Jack croaked.

Post-apocalyptic Disney nation cont. 2

Back in the present...

Being a security guard at Disneyland had some perks and a few downsides. You got to work for Disney, see all the characters, and, if you were a people watcher, watch people from all over the world. The downsides were holiday crowds, angry patrons, and lost children. Now that Zarina thought about it, sick children might be the worst. Parents had gone out of their way, parted with a good bit of money only to have the lucky kid barf himself senseless.
She scanned the crowds, hoping to find a suspicious character. Though in this crowd... finding herself would be a miracle. Then she spotted a rather attractive looking man walk into the fastpass lane for the Indiana Jones ride. The line wait was about 20 minutes but it was still less than the hour for the regular line. Then Zarina noticed something strange. The attractive man, she knew it was him because he was wearing a very red shirt and black waistcoat, exited the ride ten minutes later.
"Shahid, can you access the cameras in the Indiana Jones ride?" She asked into her walkie talkie.
"Yes ma'am," he replied. "Who am I looking for?"
"A rather attractive man with a red shirt and black waistcoat." Zarina said. "He just left the ride."

Jack Crowley was not a violent man. His entire family prized a calm and composed nature. Only one of his many brothers and sisters actually considered any kind of violence. So being placed in a sand pit with an eight foot opponent with an axe... Jack was pretty much at a loss of how to deal with the situation. However, not at such a loss that he couldn't avoid an axe.
The horrible creatures watching the spectacle hooted and howled in approval as the axeman came closer with his swings. Jack knew this situation couldn't be sustained as he would tire faster than the axeman. Which would then lead to proving that he was not immortal by any stretch. Also, without his cane he had little option but to fight back. Searching for a weapon, Jack ran his hands through the sandy floor. His hand caught on a sharp object. Dodging the axe again, he quickly drew the object from the sand.
Much to his horror, Jack found he had pulled out a bone about a foot long. Sure it was sharp but to get past the axe...and then land a hit... The axe whipped past him, barely missing him. Thinking fast, Jack grabbed the shaft of the axe and swung himself at his opponent. His feet connected with a thump. And he bounced off like a kitten.
"Omph!" Jack grunted as he landed in the sand.
The axe came flashing down. The man rolled to get out of the way. The blade crashed down and Jack's eyes widened. He looked down. The tip of the axe was buried in his side. Blood began to ooze from the wound. No one else could see but Jack knew there would be a few flecks of blue amongst the red. The axeman picked up his weapon to strike again. A switch then flipped in Jack that he was unaware that he had and he jumped into survival mode.
Time seemed to stop as he jumped up, wielding his bone. His blue eyes flashed as he dodged past the axe. With a practiced stroke, he cut a line across the axeman's torso. Using his momentum, Jack circled round the tall man and dug the bone into the back of his knee. Crippled, the tall man fell sideways and crashed to the ground. The spectators cheered as he leapt onto the big man's chest and raised his bone to strike. Jack looked into his opponent's eyes and saw something that woke a long forgotten memory.

Twelve years ago (for Jack)

The little boy stood in the middle of the room crying. He looked to be about three and his light brown hair was sticking up everywhere. Tears streamed down his red face. People passing by either averted their eyes or looked to see where his parents were. They were no where to be seen because this small sobbing child was lost.
Jack, on his break, noticed the small boy. He looked around, surprised that no one was stopping to help the poor child. Brushing off his dark pants, the man stood and walked over to the little boy.
"Hey, hey," he said quietly. "Are you alright?"
"Nooo!" The boy sobbed.
"Where are your parents?"
"I dunnooo!" He started to cry louder.
"Hey, it's ok" Jack crouched down. "Look, we'll go find them. Would you like that?"
The boy nodded, choking on a few sobs.  With a smooth motion, he picked up the small boy as he stood up. He carefully dried some of the boy's tears.
"Now, where did you see them last?" Jack asked kindly.

Suddenly Jack was returned to the present as the air was driven from his lungs. The eight foot terror had sensed his hesitation and acted. Stumbling to his feet and hoisting his axe, the axeman favored his left foot. Jack held his bleeding side as he stood, getting his breath back.
'Well, I clearly can't kill him.' Jack thought. 'So... I guess I'll have to prevent him from killing me.'

Walt was riveted to the window on the strange futuristic train. The sleek bullet like train cut through the forest silently. So far, he had seen Indians, a medieval gypsy camp, what appeared to be some knights, and a strange dark figure with a bow. Then Main Street station came into view. The station was ornately carved and painted in bright pastels. Something about it seemed familiar. The train glided into the station and the party disembarked.
A short figure ran up the station steps to greet them. After the three and a half foot boy had bowed to the princess, Walt recognized him. It was the face on the screen they called imp.
"Well, hello!" Walt held out a hand. "I don't think I caught your name, my fine young sir."
"Hear that princess? He calls me young!" Imp pointed at the man proudly. "I'm Ioan Ceadre."
"Mr. Ceadre, are you aware that you have a tail?" The man asked, seeing a flexible appendage swinging back and forth.
"Yes. Call me Ioan," he bowed. "Now come this way! I've got lots to show you!"
Ioan ran towards the steps. Walt followed him, noticing his feet were bare and didn't seem right. The creature, an imp he now realized, leapt from the stairs to a lamp post. Gripping with his tail and toes, he gestured at the scene before them.
"Welcome to Disney Nation!" Ioan proclaimed with a sweep of his hand.
Then everything clicked for Walt. This Jack had some how torn reality and spirited him away. Whether in time or a twisted reality he wasn't sure.
"Dis... Disney what?" Walt asked, rubbing his face.
"Disney Nation," Ioan replied. "One of the safest nations ever since the apocalypse."
Time then. A great deal of time.
"I... I need to find Jack."

Post-apocalyptic Disney nation cont.

Nickoli Karloff stood looking out of the window of his high rise apartment. The city below him buzzed with life. The sleek hover cars flew by like clockwork. If only everything worked as well as the hover cars. Always on time and never late. A spot near his ear vibrated. Nickoli looked up as he touched the spot.
"You better have good news." He said coldly.
"I'm sorry sir," the woman's voice on the other end apologized. "Things have become complicated."
"What kind of complicated?" Nickoli raised an eyebrow.
"He jumped time before he had set coordinates," she said. "And he may have taken someone important with him. I didn't see who it was."
"Tasha, do I have to remind you what will happen to me and, by default, to you, if you don't sort this out?" His voice became frosty and sharp.
"Don't worry, sir, I'll sort this." Tasha said.
"You better." Nickoli said, ending the call.

Jack wasn't sure how long he'd been out. The cave he found himself in was dark and patched with radioactive multi colored mold. For a brief moment, he wished the assassin had caught him. Then again, he'd be dead. At least while he was alive he could plot. Jack reached for his cane and found air. Ice gripped his stomach as he realized the cane had been left with Walt.
At that time, the discolored humanoid that had kidnapped him entered the cave. The creature was clad in primitive looking scraps of plastic material somewhat like a Kevlar bullet proof vest. At the point of his spear was a shard of rusted metal that looked like it used to belong to a car. At least that is what he guessed from the ripples in the metal.
"Immortal." The creature pointed his spear at him. "You come."
"Why?" Jack asked suspiciously.
"Come and you see," he growled.
He went to protest and the creature put the tip of his spear under his chin. Avoiding the rusty edge, Jack slowly stood. The creature then began prodding him down the radioactive passage.

Walt could hardly believe half the things that little boat did as they sailed across the sands. It didn't appear to run on any kind of fuel and while there was no wind, the boat still sailed like a speeding bullet. He was equally amazed as the princes kept up with the speedy craft. Suddenly the screen in front of the helm sprang to life. The face of the young boy they called imp was once again displayed.
"The great gulf is coming up," he said excitedly. "Can I pick the song?"
"My ship. My choice." The princess replied.
"Yes, but since I am forbidden to go out, I try to live through others." The imp replied.
"What song would you pick?" Walt called from his seat in the center of the boat.
There was a crackle as a screen appeared on the mast near Walt.
"And who is this?" The imp asked, appearing there.
"We picked him up in the waste." Princess called. "He calls himself Wat."
"Walt." The man corrected. "You sir, have fantastic eyes."
The imp turned his head bashfully at the compliment. His eyes were quite a sight to see. They were a deep purple with microscopic spirals of gold.
"I like you already!" He smiled.
"Imp if you're going to pick a song, pick a song!" The princess interrupted. "The gulf is really close."
"Aww yeah!" The imp shouted.
There was a burst of drums and an electric guitar.
"Can't stand it, I know ya planed it!" A voice shouted.
Then Walt saw something that made his heart drop. The horizon was approaching fast. The only reason it would be approaching that fast was that a cliff was there. A big cliff.  In his peripheral vision, he saw the princes pulling out their swords. Soon all five princes were running at the cliff with a sword in each hand.
"...I'm tellin Y'all this is sabotage!!"
The ground disappeared, the princes jumped, and Walt nearly lost his lunch.

"Welcome to games!" The creature on the stand roared.
Jack looked up nervously, already guessing why he was here. The walls of the pit rose around him, strongly reminding him of the roman colosseum.
"You fight!" The creature pointed into the pit. "We watch!"
Instinctively, Jack looked around. He was the only one in the pit but he could see barred entrances.
'Please don't be lions! Anything but lions!' He thought desperately. Two of the primitive creatures grabbed ropes attached to one of the gates. With creaking groans, they pulled the gate up. There were deep thumps in the sand as what ever stood behind the gate came into view. Jack stepped back nervously as an eight foot tall man stepped into the arena. For a brief moment, he wished for lions.

"How...how do swords turn into wings?" Walt asked.
The five princes glided next to the boat on silver wings that had sprouted from the edge of the swords. The far away desolate ground stretched on for miles. Shattered ships, skeletons of what looked like great beasts, and the ruins of a few cities covered almost every inch of the desert floor.
"It's morphiuim," A pirate explained. "It's a bit unstable and slightly radioactive. Haven't you heard of it? It's pretty common."
"No. I seem to be out of my depth and far from a place I recognize." Walt replied. "It's fantastic! Could I have some to experiment with?"
"I don't think that's the best plan," the pirate said. "You have to have all sorts of shots to work with it. It puts some people to sleep and, in some cases, they don't wake up."
"You mean it kills some people?" He asked, alarmed.
"No. They simply sleep forever." The pirate shrugged.
"Wall HO!" The princess shouted. "Prepare for docking!"
Walt looked up. A Great Wall stretched up miles high and across the horizon. Near the top of the wall were large round windows spaced about a football field apart. The magnificent little craft alighted towards one of these windows. As they neared the window, Walt could see a rather victorian London looking chap standing at the glass. A regular Charles Dickens character.
Receiving a signal from the princess, the artful dodger pulled a series of levers causing the big glass porthole to open outwards. The boat sailed through the open glass and gracefully landed in the landing frame.
"An thas ow its done, boys!" The man's accent fit him perfectly.
After the princes had flown in, he worked the levers to pull the window closed. Walt, still a little stiff, disembarked from the boat with the pirates. Bursting with 1000 questions, his attention was drawn to the other side of the wall.
"Wow!" He said as he leaned against the railing.
This side of the wall contrasted sharply with the desert. A great forest stretched as far as the eye could see, lush and green and full of trees. The forest started about a half a mile from the wall. In the distance he thought he could see the faint outlines of a castle tower sticking out of the trees.
"What's that out there?" Walt asked pointing towards the tower.
"Tha' would be Villainia." The man pointed in a different direction. "They willa be taken ye to headquarters. Tha' direction."
"Hmm. Can you tell me what happened to make that desert out there and this paradise in here?" He asked.
"Tha be a long story, sir..."
"Walt, or what ever your name is," the princess called. "The train to Main Street is coming! We need to catch it to get back to headquarters!"
'Villainia and Main Street?' Walt thought as they made their way to the station. 'What kind of place is this?'

Post-apocalyptic Disney nation K

"Who's Mr. Crowley?" Zarina asked.
"No one really knows. We just know he has a free pass to anything Disney any time he wants." Shahid replied with his Indian accent. "It's one of those company mysteries."
"Or he could have hacked the system." She replied.
"Yes, but that's much less mysterious and magical." He returned to his computer terminal. "Also, no one has ever been able to prove he shouldn't have free passes. Just throwing that out there."
"Hmmm. You know, I once worked for a private investigator as his client screener." Zarina implied.
"Ooooh! A woman after my own heart!" The man pulled up a file on his computer. "I have been cross checking all the regulars and the cameras when this Mr. Crowley appears in the system."
Shahid pulled up several pictures.
"I am beginning to think he might be a woman..."
"Doesn't his account have a picture?" She asked, scrolling through his web of possibilities.
"No. And the computers are programmed to delete his picture. At least the ones at the entrance." He indicated his files. "Which is why I have been checking all other cameras."
"Well, I certainly know what I'm doing with my spare time," Zarina smiled.

60 years ago..

Walt Disney walked around his park, surveying the construction. The park was nearly done. Workers and costumed characters practiced their rounds and their acts. People all around were looking busy and the opening celebrations were starting to look fabulous.
It was at this chaotic time that Walt discovered a young man sleeping inside one of the mad hatter's tea cups. He had dark hair, wore black slacks with a dark red button up shirt and black vest, and appeared to be in his mid twenties. Walt stared at him, wondering what department he should fire him from. Drawing a blank, he decided to wake him up and ask.
"Hey buddy," Walt tapped him on the shoulder.
"Wuzz... I didn't..." The young man mumbled.
Walt tapped him a little harder. The young man jolted awake. He looked around confusedly for a moment before noticing the older man standing next to him.
"Hmmm. Where am I?" He asked sleepily.
"You are in the mad hatter's tea cup ride in the yet to open Disney land." Walt replied. "May I ask what possessed you to fall asleep here?"
"I uh... honestly, it seemed a peaceful place to stop," he said. "Sorry if I've inconvenienced you. I'll be on my way."
"Well wait a minute fella!" Walt put up a hand. "If you don't work here, who are you and what are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," a soft accent entered the man's voice. "I'm not from around here and I've been traveling for quite some time."
"You're English yes?"
"Welsh actually." The young man replied.
"And is this cane yours?" Walt asked, picking up the cane in question.
"Yes. Please don't touch it." He tried to grab for it.
"Not until you tell me your name." The older man held it out of reach. "I know you've been avoiding telling me."
"Jack Theodore Crowley." He held out his hand. "Give me my cane."
"Alright, here." Disney handed him the sleek black cane. "So, what's your story, Mr. Crowley?"
"None of your business." The young man said, climbing out of the overlarge tea cup.
"I rather say it is my business." He folded his arms crossly. "My park. My business."
Jack groaned internally. Not only had he made contact with someone, he had chosen someone with influence. He rubbed the round handle of his cane before turning to the man.
"I take it you are none other than Walt Disney?" He asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"Yes I am," Walt smiled.
"Well, it was nice to meet you but I've got to go." Jack casually started walking away.
"Wait a dang minute!" He followed after him.
"Please leave me alone."
"No way! You're a crazy mystery and I intend to work you out!" Walt trotted a little to keep up.
Walt wasn't the tallest man and Jack wasn't exactly the shortest. The older man reached the height of 5'10 while the younger man stood at 6'4. Jack glanced at him over his shoulder.
Little did either know, a sharp woman in black combat clothes was watching them. After they passed her, she slowly began following them. She moved like a cat, unseen by the other workers rushing about. The agent had been hunting her target for quite a while now. No need to announce her presence and scare off her prey. After all, she needed to be 100% sure.
"Look, sir." Jack said, rounding on him. "I'm not supposed to be anywhere near here. If I get caught-"
"Caught by who?" Walt inquired.
"By...by dangerous..." He tailed off catching sight of the woman following them. "I have to leave."
"What's wrong?" Walt asked, looking around.
Because his back was turned, he didn't see Jack twist the top of his cane. However, he did see the woman snarl and leap at them. Then something very strange happened. Walt could feel his body try to recoil from the feline woman but he felt frozen. His vision blurs and streaks of lightning tear the fabric of reality apart. Suddenly he tumbles to the ground and everything went black.

Jack woke with a splitting headache. Radiated dust filled his lungs. At least he woke up. Worse things could have happened. Then he turned his head and saw Walt lying a few feet to his right.
"Oh no!" He moaned. "I've killed Walt Disney!"
A strong hand grabbed his shoulder. Jack turned to see a rather ugly face scowling at him. The man's hair was sticking up from the stray electricity in the air and his skin was red and turning purple in places. The few teeth he had were yellowed and his tongue was turning green.
"Immortal." The ugly face growled.
"What?" Jack asked, cringing at the foul breath.
"You are immortal." The face growled again.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he coughed.
"You struck by mighty lightning." The creature insisted. "You are fine. You are immortal!"
With that the creature grabbed him with both hands and began dragging him away.
"No wait! I have to help my friend!" Jack struggled against his iron grip. "Walt! Walter! Wake up Walter!"
Failing to free himself, he grabbed a rock and threw it with all his might. The stone bounced off the older man's back. Much to Jack's relief, the still man stirred and half opened his eyes.
"Wake up Walt!" He roared, quickly being pulled away from ear shot.
Annoyed with all the shouting, the creature thumped Jack on the head. For the second time, he blacked out.

Something thumped Walt on the back. He looked up and could see blurry shapes and thought he could hear someone shouting his name. He rubbed his face to clear his eyes. Looking around he saw that he was in some desert wasteland. It reminded him of Bryce Canyon however there was not a speck of plant life to be seen.
Walt tried to get up and was pushed back down by a splitting headache. He must be really hung over if he couldn't remember how he got here and had this bad of a headache. The sun glinted off something shiny about a foot from his right hand. He reached and picked it up slowly. The dark shaft of the cane registered in Walt's mind.
"Mr. Jack Crowley." He muttered.
A sound then reached the man's ears. It sort of sounded like skiing. Like some smooth craft was gliding through the sandy paths of the desert. Walt managed to lift himself up on his elbows to see a very strange sight.
The craft was a small boat, enough room for about five people. However, there was more than five people coming his way. There were five in the boat working the complex sails and guiding the fantastic craft through the rocks. About five more people were running around the craft. Not only were they keeping up with the swiftly moving craft, they were leaping over it, doing flips, and generally looking like a circus parade with one float.
Walt stared at the display in fascination. The five running around were dressed like... Arabian princes or some kind of genie. Billowy, brightly colored pants, bare feet, and open vests. The five in the craft looked almost like Arabian pirates. As far as he could tell nine of the party were male. The curves that graced the tenth figure marked her as female.
The party had noticed Walt lying half raised on the ground. With graceful, dancing movements, the craft turned and the runners moved to circle him. The princes drew swords and pointed them at Walt. The pirates stopped their craft and drew pistols. The only woman in the ten stepped away from the helm and jumped out of the boat. She stopped in front of him.
"Who are you?" She asked.
"I'm Walt." He sighed, still enchanted by the display. "Who are you?"
"Where are you from?" She asked, ignoring the question.
"I could tell you if I knew where I was." Walt said, starting to get a cramp in his arms.
"Don't trust him, princess," a rather buff prince said. "He looks like an Ambler. And you know how they are."
"Oh, you're a princess?" He shifted onto his side.
"You are on thin ice, Ambler." The buff prince put his sword to Walt's neck.
"Down Toko," the Princess warned. "You know Amblers don't give names, real or fake."
Toko, the buff prince, glared at the man and slowly removed his sword.
"Good boy." She looked at Walt closely. "You look old. What's an old man like you doing out here all alone in the wasteland?"
"Wasteland? I wasn't alone..." He said noticing all ten of them looked to be in their twenties. "I don't know what happened to him."
A second prince, this one a bit scrawny, ran around the edge of the alcove. He leapt up on some rocks and looked over the edge.
"A Gresh was here." He called. "It looks like it was dragging something away."
"At least he was telling the truth about that." The princess remarked.
"But why didn't the Gresh take him?" Toko asked.
"I don't know," Walt said. "I don't even know what a Gresh is."
Just then a screen on the side of the ship came to life. A round faced boy appeared on the screen. He whistled to get their attention. The princes and pirates turned.
"Boys," the face said. "My lady."
"What do you want, imp?" The princess asked.
"To tell you, fair lady, that your crew are in danger of a radiation spike headed to your location." The boy said calmly.
"Grab him." The princess pointed at Walt. "We'll finish interrogating him later."

Wholock  cont.

"Sherlock," the voice on the phone sounded tired.
"Lestrade." He replied.
"I've got a man here who fits your description of being witness to our missing murder victim."
"We're on our way-"
"A moment." Lestrade interrupted. "It appears he doesn't speak English."
"That's fine I know a dozen languages." He replied, hailing a cab.
"Or and language we can think of." The police inspector sighed. "He understands English enough though."
"What's wrong?" John asked, seeing his friend's face.
"Nothing... Hopefully." Sherlock said, ending the call.

"So, he's mute?" John said.
Sherlock and Lestrade glanced at the man in the interrogation room. The man had dark, slightly wavy hair which was starting to look as though it needed to be cut. He was wearing a jacket and was wrapped in a thick blanket. Still, he shivered slightly.
"Is he ill?" John asked.
"I dunno... He keeps making motions that he's cold." Lestrade shrugged. "He looks healthy to me."
"I'll go see if I can tell anything." He entered the interrogation room.
Sherlock stared through the window. The police inspector looked at him and looked through the window as well.
"I've never seen you at such a loss for words." Lestrade said looking back at Sherlock. "Are you getting anything off him?"
"Nothing that makes sense yet." Sherlock replied. "You're getting better at this."
"Nah I'm just good at reading you."

"Hello." John said, as he sat down.
The man smiled brightly.
"I'm John. Have you got a name?"
The man moved his hands, showing a detailed scratching on the table.  He moved over to get a good look at it.
"Lestrade's not going to like that." John muttered. "That's a very good dragon. What did you use to scratch it out?"
He then noticed the flames the dragon was spitting had letters in them.
"Ell... Ellio Elliot. You're name is Elliot?"
The man nodded enthusiastically.
"Elliot what?"
With a swift movement, Elliot scratched 'the' on the table with his fingernail. He then drew a line pointing at the dragon. John stared. He carefully took Elliot's hand and inspected his nails. They looked normal.
"So, you're Elliot the dragon?" He asked.
Elliot nodded.
"Ask him about the murder." Sherlock said, sticking his head in.
"Why don't you ask him?" John asked.
"He seems to like you."
Elliot made motions for him to sit. He then turned to the window and motioned for pen and paper. Sherlock came in and warily sat down. Lestrade entered with paper, muttering about a circus.
"So, the murder." John started. "You saw something?"
To John's amazement, the man's expression clearly said; I was there. A second after the expression registered, Elliot bent over a paper and began sketching.
"He was there." The words spilt out of John's mouth.
"How do you know that?" Lestrade asked.
"Tell him Sherlock," he said turning back to their witness.
"Tell him what?" The detective asked, watching his friend with interest.
"You... You didn't see that written all over his face?" John asked confused. "It was as clear as day!"
Elliot grabbed a paper and quickly scribbled something on it. He pushed it at them and went back to sketching. Sherlock picked it up and looked at it curiously.
"What is it?" Lestrade asked.
"It appears to be some sort of symbolic language..."
"Let me see." John snatched the paper from him. "This is ridiculous. You seriously can't read this?"
They both looked at him blankly.
"Ok. Look, this is obviously a heart and with a stretch of imagination, this could be a brain." He pointed at the shapes. "The J by the heart is me and the S by the brain is-"
"Me." Sherlock nodded. "And he means I'm smart and you're nice?"
"Kinda. He means you base everything on intellect and I go off emotions." John said, surprised that actually occurred to him.
Elliot snapped his fingers and pointed at John.
"So, John is perfectly able to read him but you in your ultimate wisdom can't?" Lestrade said in awe. "I never thought I'd see the day! You're not putting me on are you?"
Elliot pushed the finished sketch at them. The murder victim was standing with Elliot and there was a shadowy well dressed figure pointing a gun at them. The details on the murderer were fuzzy except for the ring on his right hand. The design was intricate, but a black spade was clearly visible. While Sherlock and Lestrade examined the picture, Elliot slid a folded piece of paper to John.
"Ok," Lestrade said. "We can work with this. You're free to go Elliot. Just leave your contact information."

"John, what did Elliot give you?" Sherlock asked as they walked back towards 221b.
"Oh I almost forgot." He pulled out the folded paper. "It's another picture."
"Let me see." Sherlock took the paper.
The paper depicted  the murder victim after he had been shot. There was a flat line above the still body. Part of which was circled and a line pointed to a heart line below the body. The beats depicted were small and far apart.
"John, I think I know what this means." He said.
"And that would be?" John prompted.
"Our murder victim is still alive." Sherlock said.
At that moment they looked up. To their surprise, Elliot was standing about a block away, leaning against the tall blue box. For the first time, John noticed that the box was marked police. Sherlock stared at him, trying to understand how he had moved the box from the park. In fact, he was wondering if it was indeed the same box. Elliot smiled and beckoned them over. John walked over, towing a reluctant Sherlock.
"Elliot, what's going on?" John asked, lifting the paper.
"A rescue mission, that's what." A voice behind them said.
All three turned to see the newcomer. A young man with a slightly comical bow tie and a mop of dark hair was standing there.
"Hello. I'm the Doctor."

Wholock

Police milled around the crime scene. John and Sherlock climbed out of the taxi. The doctor walked under the caution tape and over to the dead body. Sherlock walked around the scene a few times before running into Lestrade.
"What took you so long?" The policeman asked.
"Oh, the usual," Sherlock replied. "What happened?"
"Oh the usual murder." Lestrade replied. "Howevah, he's got no ID of any kind, his clothes are custom, no ones ever seen him before and no one saw him get shot."
"Indeed." The man breathed, his eyes flicking towards a shorter man trying not to be noticed.
"Well, have you got anything?"
Without answering, Sherlock strode to John and the dead body.
"Sherlock, it's the strangest thing," John started. "He has no pulse and his skin is going cold, but those bullets didn't hit any vital organs."
"So what did he die from?" Lestrade asked.
"With the information I have now, no idea." He replied.
Sherlock's eyes flicked back towards the man trying to remain unseen. To his surprise, the man was gone.
"This case has many intricate complications." He mused. "Lestrade, send the body to the morgue. I have some tests I want to run on it."

"What's wrong?" John asked. "You've been quiet all day."
"Hmmm."
"Whatever." He picked up his book. "By the way you're phone is ringing."
"It's Lestrade. Can you get it for me?" Sherlock said absently.
John dropped his book, annoyed.
"Seriously? It's in your pocket!" He said.
The phone stopped ringing. Then John's phone started ringing. He rolled his eyes and answered it.
"Hello?... Yes sorry Greg... Sherlock has it in his pocket... Yes, he wanted me to answer it..."
"Well, tell him to answer his phone next time!... There's been a development in the case..." Lestrade heard a scuffle on the other end.
"What development?" Sherlock's voice came out of the phone.
"Oh now you want to talk to me?" He said. "No... No you listen!... Fine! Alright!... The body's been stolen... Sherlock?... Sherlock?"
The man stood, frozen as his mind raced. John got up and took the phone from Sherlock's motionless hand. Free from the phone, he fell on the couch, deep in thought.
"Sorry about that... Yes you've sent him off on one."
Suddenly, Sherlock jumped up from the couch. He grabbed his coat and ran from the room.
"What's happening?" Lestrade asked, his voice small over the phone.
"Look, I'll call you back." John ended the call. "Sherlock!"

John found his friend back at the crime scene. He stood still with his hands on his temples. The doctor stood off to the side, waiting for him to say something.
"I've missed something, John," he said as he mentally rewound the day.
"What did you miss?"
"I missed... I missed..."
Unknown cause of death; no. Unknown victim; no. The man that was watching...
"I know what I missed." Sherlock said.
"What?" John asked.
"Our witness."

"What do you mean there's a witness?" Lestrade asked.
"I mean there was a man who saw our stolen body get shot, knows why and knows who stole the body." Sherlock replied.
"Oh yeah? And how exactly are we supposed to find him?"
"I have alerted my network," he said, pulling out a paper. "This is a description of our man. I suggest you alert your network. Between us we should find him."
"Alright." Lestrade sighed. "I guess we can work with that."

The next day, John was walking through the park. Enjoying the mild weather, he almost didn't notice Sherlock fall in beside him. So when he spoke, John jumped.
"It's been ages!"
"Sh-! How long have you been there?" John asked.
"I can find anyone! Why can't I find him?" Sherlock mused.
"Good to see you too." He rolled his eyes. "What do you suppose they're looking at?"
John had noticed a gathering crowd on the green. The detective didn't seem to hear him. So, rolling his eyes again, the doctor began walking over to the crowd. There was a burst of flames over the heads of the crowd.
"It's just a fire-dancer," Sherlock said.
"Yes. However, I would enjoy watching him." John replied, pushing through the crowd. "You should come too. It'll be good for you."
The man rolled his eyes, then was compelled foreword as John grabbed his scarf and pulled. Sherlock was about to protest loudly when he saw the fire-dancer. The man in the middle of the clearing looked to be about 5'6. He dark hair and dark, slightly angular eyes. His naked upper body was marred by three long scars from his right shoulder to his left hip.
"What's wrong?" John asked, hearing the sharp intake of breath.
"That's our man." Sherlock replied.
"So, what do we do? Jump him?"
"No. Lets not make a scene," he replied. "We'll wait till after he's done."
The fire-dancer glanced at them as he spit out a massive fireball. The crowd stepped back, shielding themselves from the heat. When the flames faded, they saw that he was gone.
"No!" Sherlock ran to where the man had been.
By the time John had fought through the crowd, he was already running off in the chase. Sherlock followed the signs only he could see like a bloodhound. As his friend caught up with him, he realized the trail had gone cold. John tried to catch his breath as Sherlock shot back past him. Not wanting to do a Scooby chase, John leaned against a tall wood box and watched as his friend ran back and forth.
"He came this way John!" He called. "His trail disappears around here."
Sherlock looked up, seeing John leaning against the tall blue box.
"What are you looking at me for?" John asked.
"What do you suppose that box is?" He asked quietly.
"Dunno. It says police box." John replied. "Is it important?"
"Our mystery witness is in there." Sherlock said, knocking on the door.
"Is he? What if he doesn't come out?"
"I could pick the lock... Actually I don't think I could..." He stood strait. "We need to leave."
"What? Why?" John asked.
"Because our witness will come to us when he's ready." Sherlock replied, walking away.